


Kaidan Dreams

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, But one that didn't work out too well, Grief, M/M, POV Kaidan Alenko, Post-War, destory ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night Kaidan dreams, and every night he dreams of him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaidan Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Something angsty I cooked up a couple of weeks ago. It's sad, so of course I had to share the misery. Post-destory ending, but without Shepard making it out alive.

 Kaidan dreams.

 Of days gone by and days to come; of wars they won and some they lost; of childhood toys and soft blue blankets, and adult pains filled with grief and darkness.

 Sometimes he’d dream in vivid colours, other times in black and whites, greys and reds so dark they looked like blood. Sometimes he could smell and taste and feel the things in his dreams, and sometimes it was muted, like he was floating in the ocean, weightless and motionless until someone or something pulled him out.

 Sometimes they never made much sense and other times too much.

 Sometimes they hurt; sometimes they made him laugh; sometimes they made him feel nothing at all.

 But every night when Kaidan dreamed, he dreamed of _him_.

 He’d slip in like an invited ghost, humble and unobtrusive in a way he’d never been in life.

 Kaidan could see the blue in his eyes and the pink flush to his lips; he could smell the tang of gun oil and spice, taste the salt on his skin, and feel his hands, gentle and yet firm as they swayed to a song centuries old in the familiarity of a space they shared together once so very long ago. 

 He’d bask in his presence. Wrap himself tight in his arms and smile against his jaw, listening to the rumble of his voice even though he couldn’t always understand the words. Kaidan would spend his dreams with him for as long as he could, a sense of calm washing over his mind.

 Kaidan dreamed of him every night, even when his streaks of grey turned into white and unfurled across the black like smoke through the night; when laugh lines turned to deep crevices that told of a life well lived; when his husky voice trembled when it told stories from decades ago, and when strong hands became thin and spotted.

Sometimes in his dreams Kaidan would be young again and other times older.

 But _he_ never aged.

 He looked the same as he ever did in Kaidan’s dreams; a toy soldier who never was afforded a chance to grow old—to see through a life well-lived. He looked like the man who sacrificed his age so that others could enjoy it in all its wonders. He looked like the last time Kaidan had seen him outside his dreams.

 He’d smile, youthful and vibrant like that of a boy, his shoulders drawn back and head held high. Strong, steady hands would tangle with Kaidan’s shaking ones to steady them, while blue locked with whiskey brown, clarity and youth mixing with age and wisdom.

 Sometimes they would speak. Kaidan would apologize and accuse, he’d love and laugh, cry and beg. Sometimes they would sit quietly together, Kaidan too tired or too content to break the silence. And still he came every night; slide in and curl himself around Kaidan, a painful and yet joyous reminder of a love that spanned a galaxy and a lifetime. Of a love not quite lost despite the passage of time and souls.

And on the last night when Kaidan dreamed he came, his hands outstretched and his smile gentle, the fear and pain that wracked Kaidan’s body all but gone when their fingers tangled together one last time.

Every night Kaidan dreamed, and every night John Shepard lived.

 


End file.
